


Out in the Cold

by NervousAsexual



Series: Whumptober 2020 [27]
Category: Half-Life
Genre: Polar Vortex, Post-Canon, day 27 was rough, i hate this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: Barney debates how much is too much to share with the civilians.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Out in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober prompt #27--extreme weather

It's cold. It's so cold. They have to keep moving because the Combine will. But if he sends them back out into the weather they will more than likely die. Either way, people are going to die. So do they want to die in the cold or in an abandoned shack made barely habitable by the biggest fire they can possibly build?

Shit. He can't tell them that.

It couldn't be a frickin... equatorial vortex or something. He knows a lot about surviving the heat. You don't grow up in Arkansas without having some ideas. But this? He doesn't have a clue.

It's so damn cold he's thought about putting the metrocop faceplate back on just so the cold isn't on his skin all the damn time. Then even if they met Combine forces he could pretend he was one of them, taking a group of civilians to... to...

Okay, it's a bad idea, and not just because he'd sooner die than pretend to be with CP one minute longer.

He's terrified that if he puts the mask back on one of the civilians will recognize him. On the one hand that's just silly, because one metrocop looks very like another. On the other...

When he first went undercover he promised himself that he would remember the face of every person he had to beat or worse. That was how he would keep himself from going blind to the cost of his actions. But he never dreamed he'd be here doing it almost twenty years later. He never imagined just how many faces there would be. He never guessed how easy it would be to forget.

He's not got a lot of time to figure out what to do. Is he gonna keep them moving, hope there's still somebody left if and when they make it to White Forest? Should he let them stay here and just... he's done his part, hasn't he? He did his time in CP when nobody else would. He got Gordon moving toward the rest of the rebels so many times he's lost count. If he doesn't make it back it isn't such a big loss.

Except for all the others. He looks around the fire and there's every conceivable shape and size of person (plus two recently unchained vorts). If he dies more than likely they die too. This is not a responsibility he asked for or wants.

He laughs to himself and buries his face in his hands. This was definitely not on the ten-year plan they made him write at Black Mesa.

"Mr. Calhoun?"

He jerks his head up, looking around for dangers. Nothing appears to have changed. Nothing but the older woman standing in front of him.

"You look like you're getting freezerburnt," she tells him.

Is that a joke, or is that a statement?

"I thought you might like this," she says, holding something out. When he takes it it's scratchy but warm. Wool, pre-Combine, maybe, knitted together into something resembling a balaclava.

"I can't accept this," he tells her, trying to hand it back.

"Yes you can." She pushes it away. "Consider it a thank you. Makes a person feel needed."

"You made this yourself?"

"It's something to think about that isn't our imminent deaths."

He winces. These folks aren't stupid. They know there's a strong chance they won't make it out of this. He needs to be honest with them. He shouldn't treat them like children. He shouldn't...

"Mr. Calhoun? You still in there?"

"Yeah." He gives himself an all-over shake. "Yeah. Still here. Thanks for this. I was just thinking about how I really needed something to keep the cold off my face."

"Well, good. Hope it helps." She gives him a little nod. "And thank you. For everything."

Everything? He's hard-pressed to think of a single thing, but he doesn't want to argue.

"Stay warm," he says, and she says the same.

It's so cold. Barney pulls on the balaclava and despite the way it itches he feels a little better. They're still probably going to die, but at least his face won't fall off.


End file.
